


I Know Why (And So Do You)

by orphan_account



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: 1942, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Camp Toccoa, Canon Divergent, Catholic Imagery, Depression, Don't question me - Freeform, Father issues, Fluff, Get Together, I love buck compton and will put him in every chapter if i please, It happens, M/M, Misunderstanding, Pining, Sloppy Lew, Slow Burn, Stoic Dick, Unknowingly, We love him though, because love, catholic funerals, dick is confused, everyone is at toccoa okay, i don't give a good goddamn, idk why i think lew is a new york catholic but there ya go, like not explicit but, lots of archangel references, nix is sad, probably, they really just are war sweethearts, traumatic childhood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-07-28 21:33:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16250216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Lewis and Dick slowly become friends after a tragedy tips Lew's life upside down. Through training, Toccoa, and the war, they remain at each other's sides, unsure of their bond, and why they can't seem to let go of each other.





	1. Chapter 1

For a long time, Lewis Nixon and Richard Winters only orbited each other; when Lewis was drinking coffee at noon on a Sunday, Dick would pass through the mess, heading for something Lew would think horrid and arduous. When Dick was studying military history in the lecture hall, Lew had already packed up his books, and was off for the weekend, thoughts of the army as distant as Dick in that classroom.

For long stretches of space, Lew couldn’t even remember seeing Dick, though they were both officers, both leading men, both stuck in the same ten buildings.

It made sense that they should hardly cross paths. Lewis was too saturated, full of booze and smoke and witty banter; Dick was stark, unknowingly brimming with golden promise and stubborn resolve. They existed on the opposite ends of the world, which had shrunk to the size of an army base in Georgia.

Lewis had always known of Dick, had seen his ginger head bobbing around as far back as Officer Candidate School. Dick had always been quiet, had always had the look of St. Michael, and Lewis had promptly decided that oil should not dirty water. He could sabotage the whole war if he corrupted one of Uncle Sam’s best.

Really, Lewis didn’t think himself a total pariah, but all the same he didn’t tread the waters of the likes of Dick Winters, nor anyone of his caliber. He knew he was smart, clever, and hell, not half bad physically, but he knew his heart wasn’t in it. He knew he was an opportunist, knew he had joined the airborne out of rebellion to his family, in a meandering death wish. He could hide that though, wrapped in an exaggerated cloak of his personality. He spoke French and Latin freely, spouted a century’s worth of naval history during dinner, and charmed his way around dance halls on the weekends. He was the renaissance prince, devilish, intelligent, self-serving. Everyone on base went to him for booze and tips on women, they laughed at his wry humor and well-placed digs against their higher ups. Nixon was good for a good time. If a man this well-placed in the world had volunteered for the airborne, surely he must be there on good nature. He had the pick to go anywhere.

If Lewis Nixon stood himself next to Dick Winters, they would see through everything. The slick rich kid would peek out from his uniform, the stench would rile up through his PT gear, and then the day he’d be shot through by a German couldn’t come soon enough.

He was going about his self-imposed exile from the innermost circle of heaven quite splendidly. He had his drinking buddies, he had his Friday night dance halls and glib remarks to hold him over, keeping his visions of bloody death and golden warriors at bay.

He went to sleep happy and drunk in the small quiet hours of a Sunday morning. It was that perfect sort of drunk, where the gnawing in his chest hadn’t opened up, and all he could see were stars and the swirl of women’s skirts as they danced through the night. He’d been in such a good mood he’d even had a swig of water and taken off most of his clothes before bed.

Of course, the universe would not stand for this much happiness in Lew’s life.

He’d probably only been in bed for a couple hours when an urgent hand tapped him on the shoulder. Lew’s head swimmed around, trying to find the surface of consciousness, but the world remained black.

“Nixon,” came a sharp voice. “Wake up.”

Lew, having had the fear of God put into him by the army and its associated harsh voices, snapped his eyes open, and sat up quickly. He looked up, and saw red hair and blue eyes and straight shoulders. Dick looked doomed and somber.

“Have they sent their best saint to kick me out?” Lewis yawned. “I gotta admit, I thought I’d last a little longer.”

Dick’s face didn’t change. “Sink sent me to get you. He needs to see you.”

Lewis’ mind raced through all of the things he could have done to warrant a 5am scolding. The list was short, though, because despite his reputation, Lewis did actually manage to hold himself together. The last thing he wanted was to be sent to a ground infantry unit. Or worse, back to his family.

Lewis got up immediately, shucking his pants on and quickly looking under his billet for clean socks. He knocked his head on the steel bar once, and he saw Dick’s booted foot take a step towards him, and then shuffle back.

“Are you supposed to escort me there?” Lew turned around, rubbing the back of his head. “I’ve been there before.”

Dick looked slightly taken aback, but his face quickly turned neutral again.

“I think it’s bad news,” he said firmly.

Dick trails Lewis all the way across to Sink’s office. Lewis nods at Dick before he walks through the door.

 

 

There was mass of black suits around Lewis, with dozens of black veils lining his periphery. He could hear the clacking of heels on the marble church floor, he could smell the incense and holy oil that ricocheted around the sanctuary. He could make out the dark wooden coffin draped in an American flag. He could not, however, make out one familiar face or focus on the music playing around him as he shuffled up the aisle.

When he sat down in the front pew, he glanced to his left, and saw the outline of a pale face, draped in a shoulder length black veil. The veil seemed to be talking to him.

“Lewis,” it said. It sounded confused. “Lewis, come on.”

The veil materialized into Blanche Nixon, his sister, and his eyes bulged out in surprise. He turned to his right, and saw his mother, tight-lipped, not crying, and silent. Lewis grabbed Blanche’s hand, and before he knew it, he was walking out of the church, onto a busy New York street, and back onto a train, back to Georgia.

He got back to the army on a weekend. This was by design. When Sink had told him, Lewis had the faint desire to laugh in his face. Why should he need built-in recovery time? Everyone knew his feelings for Stanhope Nixon.

The Friday night he got back, he unpacked his clothes, threw all his underwear into a laundry pile, and took a long shower, courtesy of Robert Sink. He vaguely remembered Buck Compton and Harry Welsh coming to check on him, but the words they spoke were inconsequential. He shook them off and laid in bed, thinking of nothing for hours and hours, until the sun poked its golden head around the mountain ranges of Georgia.

A few hours later, Bill Guarnere sat next to Lew for the first time during lunch. Sure, Bill wasn’t an officer, but Lewis Nixon had not said a word for 12 hours. Everyone knew it was desperate times.

“Catholic funerals are just the worst,” he said between bites of meatloaf. Harry turned, terrified, and gaped at Bill’s smirking face.

Lewis blinked, the information taking several moments to register. Then, he grinned. Lewis saw Dick Winters quirk his head at him from down the table.

“When my old uncle Frank died, I didn’t get that stupid Hosanna song out of my head for weeks,” Bill said, stuffing his face. “If you ask me, funerals should be fifteen minutes.”

Lewis cracked another smile, but let the boys take turns digging into each other’s religions instead of saying anything.

The rooms spins with voices, and Lewis can feel himself slip away again, like at the funeral, when he was 12 drinks and a couple valium deep in grief or anger or some adjacent feeling of the sort. He excuses himself after a polite amount of time. The boys seem less worried about him, and maybe that’s all they wanted. If Lew was well enough to act like he was okay, what was there to really worry about?

He finds himself walking along the creek that flows mercifully through the hills around Toccoa. In the shaded area, no one can see him drain his flask, and that’s the most comfort he’s felt in a week.

He’s been gone for a long time, admittedly, and he’s forgotten his whole world back at camp. The whiskey was strong, and really Lew hadn’t completely sobered up for days now, so his head is spinning by the time he stumbles into the creek, ass first.

The splash of cold water jolts him, but the water is only waist high, and he lands on the red clay of the embankment, wet but not harmed.

He’s laughing when he hears rushed footsteps.

“Nixon?”

It’s Dick Winters, because of course it is. He’s in his shorts and white tee, sweating and standing tall, his eyes curious and cautious.

Lew makes no move to get out of the freezing water, but continues laughing, this time at the coincidence of Dick Winters.

Dick’s mouth almost reaches into a smile, but droops back into a hard line. He paces over to Lew, and stands close to him, the toes of his sneakers almost grazing the water. Lewis looks up at him, and the sun transforms his face into a golden ray of freckles and a bad comparison to the light of heaven.

“You ever been to a Catholic funeral, Winters?” Lewis said, still sitting in the creek. He couldn’t really feel his legs anymore, but he hardly missed them.

“No,” Dick said, holding out a hand for Lewis to grab onto. He quickly fished Nixon out of the water, only letting go of his hand when Nixon was steadily on dry land.

This didn’t surprise Nixon at all. “You know I think they’re the best, despite Guarnere’s gripes. So symbolic. The high drama really goes nicely with death.”

Dick eyes him, and nods once, but he looks slightly worried.

The two walk back to camp together, though neither of them had agreed on that. Nix was shivering slightly, his wet clothes clinging to his body. When they got back to the barracks, Dick stopped him outside the door.

“You should take your boots off,” Dick said, looking down at the muddy mess.

“Yeah,” Lew said, tired enough to obey.

As he was unlacing the unforgiving pieces of leather, Dick cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about your father.”

Lewis should of known that it was coming, should have known Dick was decent and patient. He remembered why he had steered clear of him in the first place. He’d be able to assess Lew’s character in a second.

“Thanks,” he said, because it was the right thing to say, but it sounded slightly sour.

“Were you close?” Dick asked, this time surprising Lewis.

“Not especially,” Lewis said, honest, but polite.

Dick nodded, squinting his eyes for a second as Lewis gathered his boots up. They walked through the pine doors, and into the officer’s quarters. They went to their respective corners of the room. Lewis noticed just how close Dick was to Lewis. How long had Dick been sleeping that close to him? How many mornings did Dick hear Lewis stumble into bed? How many times had Lewis seen Dick come panting in from a voluntary run?

Lewis couldn’t stand to think for more than a minute, and he quickly changed, eager to be away from Dick and his sturdy demeanor and occasional concerned glances.

Saturday night passed in a haze of drinks and smokes and dances with girls he couldn’t remember the names of. It was standard Lewis Nixon behavior, and this felt like winning somehow.

Lew stumbled around outside his barracks like usual that Sunday morning, smoking one last cigarette before the alcohol pulled him into a blank slumber. He could again see the sun rising in the east, just like it did when his father had died.

He didn’t realize he’d spaced out until the nub of his smoke burned the side of his index finger.

“Goddamnit,” he croaked.

Inside the room, all the beds were empty, everyone having found somewhere else to be on their weekend off. Lewis knew Dick was here, but he was probably out running or studying or drinking coffee before the noise of the day started.

A few hours later, a hand nudged his shoulder, and Nix startled awake, afraid someone was there to tell him his father was dead again.

Dick took in Nix’s face, and mumbled an apology. Lew shook him off, embarrassed at himself. He sat up, thinking off the mahogany coffin draped in an American flag.

“I brought you some water and an apple,” Dick set them down on his footlocker that jutted out from under Lew’s bed. “Thought maybe it was a rough night.” Dick smiled, like somehow he’d been part of the fun or something. Lewis probably wouldn’t have minded that.

Lewis stared at Dick as he stripped off his PT gear and went for a clean shirt. No doubt he’d been more productive in the last few hours than Lew had in weeks. Lew picked up the apple and bit into it, because it seemed like the thing to do.

Moments passed, and Dick sat down on his bed, which was maybe fifteen feet away from Lew’s. “I’m sorry I was the one to tell you,” he said, without explanation.

“Well, you didn’t,” Lew said back.

“Sink’s runner was going to get Lipton,” Dick said. “I overheard them on my way to drop some practice reports off.”

This is not what Lewis was expecting, so he stays silent.

“I told the runner that I could go get you, that I was headed back there anyways.”

“Why didn’t the runner just come and get me?”

“I think Sink wanted you to have a friend around.”

There’s an obvious pause. Lewis had specifically made sure not to become friends with Dick.

Dick has already acknowledged this. “I told him we were pals.”

A theoretical past erupts in Lew’s head; studying with Dick, playing basketball and running Currahee with the star redhead. It seemed both absurd and easy.

Lew can only think of one thing to say. “Why?”

Dick shrugs his shoulders, and then smiles, really smiles. “I don’t know.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lewis was so sure he was going to puke that he couldn’t open his mouth. He tried desperately to pull himself together. 
> 
> “Lew?” Harry laughed, but kept his eyes trained on him.   
> Lewis had to stop himself from jumping at the sound of boots on the wooden floor that sounded from the door. Harry turned as Lipton ran over to him. Lewis could see Dick talking quietly with some officers from Fox Company.

A few weeks after Lewis got back from putting his father in the ground, he got a long letter from his sister Blanche, which set his world off balance once again. It was very easy to do, since Lew always seemed to be teetering on the edge of something disastrous, of his own making or otherwise. 

He ignored it for days, but he could feel the knot in his chest bundling up, bigger and bigger every hour. He slipped whiskey into his coffee again, which calmed his hands and settled his mind.

Whiskey in his coffee turned into heavy whiskey nights on the weekend, which turned into Monday-morning lectures he could barely stay awake for. Sometimes he’d try to scribble down a note or two but his eyes wouldn’t focus enough for him to write in a straight line. 

Lew knew the other officers were casting him worried glances every now and then, but Lewis kept up with drills, got by on lectures, and spent every Sunday sleeping off the weekend in order to make it another five days. 

One Sunday morning, Lewis had his head down on the mess table, his cheek rubbing into the ink of the morning’s paper. His hand lazily gripped a mug, which was still full of piping hot coffee; Lewis couldn’t lift his head up long enough to drink it. The sun was out however, and it warmed Lew’s back, and the ambient noise of the mostly empty hall lulled him into a calm half-sleep. 

Thunk. 

A book landed heavily next to his ear, but Lewis decided that if he kept his eyes closed, it wasn’t his problem. 

Someone cleared their throat. 

Lewis took two deep breaths before peering out of one eye. Sitting on the other side of him was Dick Winters. Of course. 

Lewis unstuck himself from the paper, and rubbed his cheek vigorously, trying to make the ink stain look like stubble. From the look on Dick’s face, it hadn’t worked. 

Dick had started hanging around Lew more, and Lew supposed he’d sought out Dick more recently too. They studied with Harry sometimes, and Dick would pick Lew to helped him lead calisthenics in the mornings. Lewis thought he did it to get a laugh out of the men. Lew sometimes stayed on base late on Fridays to chat with Dick about the week they’d had and the week they were gearing up for. Dick almost always stayed on base during the weekends, and Lew always asked him about it. 

“Not drinking is one thing,” Lew said the previous Friday, leaning against the door frame of the officer’s quarters. “But no dancing either?” 

Dick rolled his eyes. “I can dance.” 

“You can drink too,” Lewis countered. 

“I didn’t realize you were such a supporter of bar-dancing,” came Dick’s dry voice. He’d turned away to change into his shorts and a tee shirt. 

Lewis looked dreamily out onto the Georgia hills. “Come on, Dick. I went to prep school. Learning the foxtrot really helps me out in those bars.” 

Dick hummed his understanding, but clearly wasn’t impressed. 

Now it was Lewis who rolled his eyes. “Okay, well have fun anyways. I think there’s a record player around here somewhere if you want to practice. Just in case.” 

Dick’s pillow hit him in the back on the way out. 

“Morning, Lieutenant,” Lewis said, back at the mess table. 

Dick blinked, his fork poised above his eggs. “Lewis,” he paused. 

“Yeah?”

“It is before noon. You do know that right?” He was making a dig, he was surprised to see Lewis out of bed, even if he had just been face-planted on the table. 

Lewis granted him a smile. “This is as far as I got.” He ventured a sip of black coffee, and grimaced. Normally he took it with a bit of cream and sugar, but that seemed a colossal effort. 

Dick’s eyes narrowed, and Lew smiled wider, knowing what was coming next. 

“Excuse me?” Dick put the fork down. 

Lewis knew he was taunting him, and for no reason. But he’d come this far, he’d have to bite the bullet. “I got back about an hour ago.” 

The horrified look that Dick tried so hard to conceal passed over his face for just a moment, but it was gratifying. Lewis felt more awake, and sipped his coffee, grinning at Dick. 

“How was it?” is all that Dick says. He looked back down at his eggs and toast and picked up his fork again. 

“What?” 

“How was it?” Dick said again. “Your weekend?” 

“Oh,” Lewis said. He had vague memories of dancing with a strawberry blonde, and he remembers sleeping most of the day on Saturday at the only hotel in whatever town he’d ended up in. Saturday night was more dancing, a lot of drinking, and then he was paying a taxi an obnoxious amount of money to take him back to Toccoa. 

“Lewis?” 

“Sorry, spaced out,” Lewis shook his head. “It was fun. Didn’t do anything to make the old man ashamed.” 

Dick looks up briefly, but he only nods, for which Lewis is grateful. He hadn’t meant to say that, but maybe he was still drunk. 

Lewis put his head on his hands, watching Dick cut his sausage into little pieces. The mess was bathed in soft Sunday light, and Dick’s khaki shirt and matching tie fit almost perfectly into the paneled wall behind them. Lewis thought he could fall asleep to the sound of Dick flipping through his newspaper. 

All too soon, Lewis watched as Dick folded the newspaper up, and drain the last dregs of coffee out of his mug. 

“I’ve got to go study,” Dick said. It always happened like this, and Lewis still hadn’t gotten used to it. He and Dick would be doing whatever mundane thing friends do, and then he’d bolt. He’d abruptly get up and leave, like he’d overstayed his welcome or something. Now, Lew could barely mutter a response before Dick’s back was turned towards him. He stared at his copper hair as he disappeared out the door. 

 

Lew spent the next five hours snoozing, his dreams abstract and not worth analyzing too much. He finally hit the shower a little after 2pm. He wasn’t too shaky, considering how much whiskey he had consumed last night. The morning coffee had probably helped. 

Most of the boys were back by the time Lewis had put actual clothes on. Though the October nights had cooled in Georgia, the afternoons were much too balmy for Lew’s New York disposition, and he refused to put on more than a tee shirt and button down. He even rolled up the sleeves and left the top two buttons undone. 

He said hello to Guarnere and Toye, who looked like they were up to something, and quickly ducked behind a building to avoid the stern gaze of Sobel, who marched down the dirt path like he was marching into Hitler’s bedroom. The sky looked like it would open up and storm over the clay hills, and Lewis had a feeling of the world ending, which happened to be one of his favorite feelings. 

It was only when he saw Blanche’s letter still under his bed that he remembered he was supposed to be upset. He picked it up and stared at her big, loopy handwriting. He scanned over the words but didn’t read them. He tried to feel the pain he’d felt earlier, but there was nothing but a blank spot in his chest where it should have been. He didn’t know if that was a good thing or not. 

He laid out on his bed for a while, listening to the rain start up. He thought of New York, and how he had liked the gross smell of the city busses and trains in the rain. It was a metallic smell, it smelled like people and iron and grime on the sidewalk. Lewis always thought it smelled like something was happening. In Georgia it smelled like dirt and farm and rotten flowers. The rain made it better, but not by much. 

“Hey Sleeping Beauty,” Lew’s reverie was broken by the jovial sound of Harry Welsh. 

Lew sat up and grinned. “Hey yourself.” 

“I’m amazed. You don’t look like shit.” Harry put his hands on his hips. He looked clean-shaven and fresh, which was weird for Harry on a Sunday. If anyone could beat Lewis for drinking, it was Harry. 

“Well hell,” Lewis laughed. “Neither do you.”   
“I’ve got Kitty to thank for this,” Harry gestured at himself. 

“She’s still letting you hang around, is she?” Lewis said sardonically. 

Harry paused, his cheeks getting redder, and Lewis felt his stomach drop to his knees. 

“What?” Lewis said quickly. When Harry smiled broadly, Lew’s heart felt like it was being hit with a hammer. “What, Harry?” 

“She’s going to wait for me,” Harry said, his voice quiet but excited. “She said she’ll marry me.” 

Lewis knew it was coming, but he still sat on the bed, slack-jawed. “What, before you leave?” 

“No, no,” Harry said, as if this was reasonable. “We’re going to wait for rationing to be over, when we can have a proper wedding.” 

“Son of a bitch, Harry,” Lewis smiled despite his stomach doing flops and his forehead breaking out in a sweat. “Congratulations, you bastard.” Lewis pulled him into a hug and then pushed him away, with Harry batting at his head. Kitty was going to be the perfect bride, and the best wife, because she was the best person Lew had ever met. 

“You’ll be there?” Harry asked. 

“Well we’ll see how this whole war thing pans out, but yeah,” Lew said breathlessly. 

“No morbid jokes,” Harry said, for once serious. “Not around my wedding.” 

“I’d love to be there,” Lewis said. Harry was beaming, sober and clean and on cloud nine. Staring at Harry made Lew feel like the world was ending more than the thunderstorm did.

“All we’ve got to do is get Kathy on your side too,” Harry clapped him on the shoulder. Lewis felt sure he was going to throw up. 

Lewis was so sure he was going to puke that he couldn’t open his mouth. He tried desperately to pull himself together. 

“Lew?” Harry laughed, but kept his eyes trained on him.   
Lewis had to stop himself from jumping at the sound of boots on the wooden floor that sounded from the door. Harry turned as Lipton ran over to him. Lewis could see Dick talking quietly with some officers from Fox Company. 

“That’s great, Harry,” Lipton said, shaking Harry’s hand. “Congratulations.” 

Harry ran over to tell the other officers, and now Nixon was really, really sure he was going to be sick. 

He looked at Lipton, who had quirked his head at him. No doubt his face was red and sweaty. 

“Kathy left me,” he said, loudly. He saw Harry turn, but he didn’t make eye contact with him. No doubt he just stole Harry’s spotlight, ruining a moment like always. “She didn’t even write me, she wrote my sister. She took my dog.” 

Everyone had gone silent to look at him. Lew’s voice was higher than usual. He could now feel his rising mania simmering, being replaced by embarrassment at his dramatic outburst. 

There was a horrible few minutes where no one said anything. Harry looked sympathetically at him, which was the worst. 

“I’m sorry, Harry,” he said. “Stole your thunder, but you get to keep the girl.” This made Harry laugh, and the room exhaled a collective breath. Lew didn’t really feel any better, but Harry was smiling again. 

Harry rubbed his face, a flurry of emotion running over his face. “Let’s go out this weekend. Celebrate my future wife, and maybe find yours?” 

Everyone cheered, except Dick, who was never rowdy, and Lew’s demons brightened at the idea of alcohol. After more cheering and respective congratulations and condolences to Harry and Lew, the officers of Toccoa dispersed, leaving Nixon where he had been a half-hour earlier; sitting on his bed with his letter from Blanche. 

The truth was, Lewis didn’t love Kathy, at least, not in any way a man should love his wife. She was glamorous, witty, independant. She drank and smoked and refused to take her heels off at the clubs of New York even when the blisters on her heels were almost unbearable. Lewis admired her, loved her rebellious streak, and had fun scandalizing his family with her. 

But Kathy could be cruel, and she expected Lew to be the type of strong man his father was, albeit more fun. She was vain and stubborn and crass, and in the end she hadn’t paid Lewis much attention. In turn Lewis drank too much and embarrassed her, he yelled just as much as she did, and fought against her attempts to make them into a real couple. 

Kathy was too much like Lewis, and maybe that was the real problem. It was pathetic, the feeling of rejection that ate at him as he sat alone on his bed. It felt like a confirmation of all his flaws. 

Instead of lying mindlessly on the bed any longer, Lewis was possessed by the urge to look for Dick Winters. He’d stopped worrying about corrupting him, as it seemed he was as incorruptible as a saint. Dick never talked about relationships, and that was the kind of solitude Lew needed to keep him from puking in the bushes. 

Lewis found Dick in the lecture hall they used in the mornings. Tactical maps lay scattered at the front table, and the lights were low. Tucked towards the back of the room, near a window, sat the redhead Lewis was looking for. He sat with his legs crossed and sticking out at a casual angle. Lew could see him slowly writing something in a notebook. He was biting his lip in concentration. 

Dick looked up at the sound of Lew’s boots scuffling on the floor. “Hi, Nixon.” He looked slightly wary. 

Lewis sat down in the desk in front of Dick, and swiveled round to drape his arms over the back of the chair. He rested his head on his arms, watching Dick’s hand write sloping letters.

“I’m sorry for the dramatics back there.” 

Dick’s eyes flicked up to Lew quickly, then went back to his notebook. “It’s alright.” 

“I’m more upset about the dog,” Lew said, because it was true. “It was a beagle, named Teddy.” 

“Teddy?” 

“After Roosevelt. My father knew him,” Lewis realizes how this sounds only after it comes out of his mouth. 

“Beagles are good hunting dogs,” Dick said. “My grandfather had them.” 

Nix said a few more things about dogs, but they eventually fell into silence, just like at breakfast. It was still raining outside, and the water had begun to run over the top of the impermeable clay. 

“I am sorry,” Dick eventually said. “About Kathy, I mean.” 

“Yeah,” Lewis said, long and hopeless. “Yeah.” 

Dick stopped writing then, and fixed Lewis with a gaze. 

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” Lewis said, smiling nervously. 

There was a beat. “Nothing, Lewis.” Dick tapped his pen on the desk. “You should go get some chow. You didn’t eat at breakfast.” 

Lewis put his hands up in surrender. He stood up, and Dick looked up at him. He stared, and then gave him a small smile. Lewis smiled back. 

“I’ll see you later, then,” Lew gave a little wave, watching as Dick went back to writing. He didn’t mean to, but in the few seconds before he turned away, he saw two words that only served to drive him back to panic; Dear DeEtta. 

Dick was watching him stare, but Lewis had already turned away, his face now red and blotchy again. 

“Lew,” came Dick’s voice, authoritative and clear. 

Lewis, because he currently lacked any of his prep school grace, whacked his leg into the front table as he turned quickly back to Dick. 

“Yes?” 

“Wait a minute, I’ll come eat with you.” 

“Alright,” Lewis said immediately. “I’ll go have a smoke. Take your time.” 

Lewis stood outside under the small awning, smoking frantically, thinking about the end of the world and his dead father and Dick’s girl back home. 

“Let’s go,” Dick said ten minutes later. Lewis was so wrapped up in his thoughts, he missed Dick’s hand ghosting over his shoulders as they headed over to the mess hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say thank you to everyone for the lovely comments! They really keep me going. 
> 
> I'm planning on this being pretty long, and super slow burn. So. Get ready for that. 
> 
> Obviously, as you've already read this, you'll realize I've moved some things around. It's kind of like an AU but in the same story? Idk. I'm trying not to make Dick and Lew too out of character. Let me know what you think.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why’d she leave anyways?” Harry asked flippantly.   
> “Harry,” Dick scolded.   
> “What?” Harry defended. “She’s an idiot to have done it. Nix is smart, he’s going to be a hero, his family is loaded, and Nix is gonna inherit most of the money.”   
> Lewis and Dick both glared at him.   
> “And he’s a nice guy,” Harry conceded. “I thought that was obvious.”

The mess was loud, crammed, and admittedly cozy, what with the October chill and rain surrounding the men outside. The officers huddled around their steaming chili as they watched Skip Muck and Alex Penkala pelt Don Malarkey with oyster crackers. Joe Liebgott’s face was the unfortunate receptacle for all the off target crackers. He grabbed the errant ones and aimed them at David Webster and George Luz. 

Dick stared as Lewis Nixon stuffed his face with food. He hadn’t said a word since they left the lecture hall. Dick couldn’t tell for sure, but Lewis seemed shaky to him. He’d noticed Nixon’s penchant for whiskey, but lots of the officers were lushes around here. From what he could tell, Dick had more cause to be worried about Harry’s drinking. 

Dick was quiet too. He couldn’t tell what he should say to Lewis or why he’d acted so strangely back in the classroom, so he focused on his meal. At one point he had to get Compton to stop running over to the enlisted men, trying to incite a food fight. 

“Think of the men who’d have to clean it up,” Dick said, smirking despite himself. 

“It’s not like I wouldn’t help,” Compton muttered, but he settled back down next to Welsh and Lipton. 

“Did Welsh ask you to be best man yet?” Lipton whispered to Dick. 

“No,” Dick said.

“He’s already asked me, Compton, and Meehan,” Lipton shook his head. 

“He has a brother,” Dick said, deadpan. This made Lewis, who was sitting with his head on the table, looking morose, give a small laugh. Dick turned to him. “Did he ask you?” 

“No, I’ve been with you all night,” Lewis lifted his head, and peered over at Harry, who was laughing at Luz, who’d come over to give everyone a fine impression of Major Horton. “That’s a lot of risk for comedy,” Lew said in response to the scene. 

“He’s not even drunk,” Lipton shrugged. “Just excited.” 

Dick smiled, and peered next to Lipton to get a glance at Welsh. It didn’t even feel like they were in the army, preparing for a war. Dick bit back the feeling of impending doom, preferring to take the happiness while there was still happiness to take. 

When the mess started to clear out, Dick began to edge away from Lewis. It wasn’t that he wasn’t worried about Lew’s sudden spiral, but he didn’t want to crowd him. He got the feeling that Nixon was the person to go off alone, sort himself out, and then come back again. Besides, it’s not like they were best friends. Sure, Dick supposed he had taken a liking to Lewis, and he was now firmly in his friend circle, but that’s kind of what the officers naturally did. Lewis also hung out with Buck Compton, he even came around to watch as Buck and the rest of the officers played football on their odd free evening. He was actually a great referee. 

“I think I’m gonna go for a run,” Dick eventually announced, when he saw Lewis chatting with Meehan. Lew seemed focused on the present again, and Dick let out a long breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

“Don’t run too far,” Lewis said. “You’ll get lost.” It was a kind of remark that Dick’s straight-edge brain couldn’t make heads or tail of, so he just nodded, which garnered a smirk from Lewis. 

Outside it was still raining lightly, and everything was muddy and flooded. Dick wrinkled his nose at the thought of his shoes after the run, but shoved off nonetheless down the path to Currahee. Dick stared up at the mountain, happy to be able to stop at the base and turn around. The mountain always reminded him of the hills in Pennsylvania, and he made a mental note to write to his sister and phone his parents when he got the chance. He wrote them dutifully, but they always said how much they missed talking to him. His sister, on the other hand, was always too busy with one school project or party to have time to answer a call. 

Dick thought of Harry and Kitty, and he couldn’t believe Harry had gotten so lucky. They’d all met Kitty when she came to visit, and she was what Compton had termed as “a real spitfire.” She’d gone to Bryn Mawr and spoke Italian, which Dick always thought was intimidating. 

His thoughts inevitably drifted towards DeEtta, who was seeing a boy in the marines. She’d written recently, about how terrified she was for him, but that he’d been able to write her more often. He wondered if they’d get married, he wondered if she’d invite him. Then he internally groaned. He’d probably have to attend a fair few weddings after the war.   
When he got back to camp, he was pretty well soaked through and sick of thinking of marriage. He came into the officer’s quarters looking forward to a hot shower. 

Harry ambushed him at the door. “Kitty wrote that she wanted lavender bridesmaids dresses. That probably means she wants a spring wedding.”

Dick blinked. 

“That’s what that means right?” Harry urged. “Lavender? Spring?” 

“I-” 

“Anything floral means spring Harry,” Lewis piped up. He looked morose again, but he also looked like he was enjoying it. 

“Well there you go,” Dick said, moving to his bed. He stripped off his shirt and hung it on his bedpost. He deposited his shoes by the radiator, sighing at how much he’d have to polish and clean them later. 

“I have allergies,” Harry muttered, looking sorely disappointed. 

“But you’ll be married,” Lew said. He had just grabbed what looked like a load of letters from his footlocker. When he began ripping them up, Dick glanced worriedly at Harry, who shrugged. 

“All from Kathy, Nix?” Harry asked. 

“Oh yeah,” Lewis confirmed. 

Dick hadn’t heard much about Kathy, but from Lew’s passing remarks, she loved to party and drink. She didn’t seem like Dick’s type. 

“Why’d she leave anyways?” Harry asked flippantly. 

“Harry,” Dick scolded. 

“What?” Harry defended. “She’s an idiot to have done it. Nix is smart, he’s going to be a hero, his family is loaded, and Nix is gonna inherit most of the money.” 

Lewis and Dick both glared at him.   
“And he’s a nice guy,” Harry conceded. “I thought that was obvious.” 

“Thanks,” Lewis said. “She left because I’m just kind of a jerk.” He shrugged his shoulders, not seeming to be very hurt by the sentiment. 

Harry softened at that. “Oh come on. After the war there’ll be plenty of birds waiting for American heroes to sweep them off their feet. Isn’t that right, Dick?” 

Dick was starting to wish Harry would stop talking to him. “Of course,” he said, with as much gusto as he could produce. 

“Now imagine that sounded encouraging,” Harry quipped. 

Lewis laughed and smiled at Dick, who laughed back. 

Their conversation died off as the rest of the officers streamed in, all looking heartbroken that it was Sunday night. Dick watched as Lewis shredded the rest of his letters, and when he came back from the shower, Lew was already in bed. 

 

Monday was full of lectures and running and more mundane military life. Dick had to deal with a little bit more Herbert Sobel than he liked, as Sobel had taken to regularly inspecting the men and yelling nonsense infractions at them. The holidays were coming up and Dick thought maybe he was trying to lower their morale as much as possible before the holiday passes were announced. 

Tuesday was stormy again, and they ran Currahee in the rain. 

“God, it keeps pelting me in the eye,” Muck said, blocking his face from the rain.

“NO TALKING,” came Sobel’s voice from the front of the pack. “Next man to talk is staying on base this weekend!” Dick rolled his eyes, but looked pleadingly at the guys to shut up. 

They got about three quarters of the way up the mountain before disaster struck. Guarnere had been pretending to trip Joe Liebgott since the start of the run. Meehan had slapped him on the head to cut it out, and even Dick slowed down to jog besides them. But in the split second when Dick was no longer worried about it, Guarnere managed to actually take out Liebgott’s legs, which in turn led to the landslide of twenty angry men, who rolled headfirst into the mud below them. 

At first, it was comically silent, as the men grunted and tried to recover. But as the pileup got bigger, and as everyone’s shins got banged by someone’s head, the yells and curses flew. 

“Son of a bitch!” 

“Get yer head off my crotch!”

“What the fuck Bill!” 

Dick flew towards them, slipping as he did, and tried to pull the guys off each other, which seemed futile as some of them were now throwing punches at each other. 

“What the hell kind of soldiers are you?” Sobel was yelling, standing far up the mountain from everyone else. “You’re all dead, I want you to know!” He made no effort to help. 

Dick continued scrambling, pulling Toye away from Webster, yelling at Liebgott to calm down, and enlisting the help of Lipton. Just as it seemed that order was being restored, someone toppled into Bull, who had insofar been able to avoid the spill. His smug grin turned into a look of panic as his entire body was pushed into Nixon, who’d been behind him, laughing. Lewis jerked away too quickly though, and the mud carried him off down the steep hill, into bushes and rocks and trees. 

“Pull yourselves together!” Dick yelled, going for Lewis. “Lipton, get everyone up!” Dick bounded towards where Lewis had disappeared. The rain was coming down heavier now, and Dick wiped his hair away to see the damage. 

Lewis was dramatically laying flat on his back, arms splayed out. “I quit,” he said. Dick bent down over Lewis. It looked like his palms had been scraped in Lew’s attempts to stop himself. He had a tiny cut on his cheek, and he’d probably had various bruises emerging as they sat there. 

Dick looked down at Lew’s leg and said, “Oh.” There was a pretty deep gash on the shin, and it was bleeding at the top. 

“What were they thinking, letting me in a place like this?” Lew said. Dick rolled his eyes at the dramatics. Lewis was the best swimmer in the company, and his tactical mind ran circles around Dick.   
Still. “That might need stitches,” Dick said. 

“There are no stitches in Germany!” Sobel roared, rearing up behind them. 

“Well we’re not in Germany, are we?” Dick heard Eugene Roe mutter, which surprised him. He bit his lip to keep from laughing. 

Sobel tried to have Lewis continue the run, but sees as they weren’t being shipped out anytime soon, Dick convinced him to let Lew go down to the medical tent back at camp. 

“Because of that colossal waste of time,” Sobel yelled. “You’ve all lost your passes!” 

Dick put Lew’s arm around his shoulder, and they hurriedly escaped down the trail, which now resembled a river more than anything. Lew could walk, but he limped, and Dick wanted to be safe, rather than risk Lew faceplanting. 

“That was hilarious,” Lewis said. “I bet Guarnere and Liebgott will be having weekly fistfights from now until war.” 

“It’s good hand to hand practice,” Dick said. 

Lew snorted. “I didn’t know you made jokes.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Oh, nothing,” Lewis said. “Only that I didn’t know Saint Michael was a funny guy.” When Dick looked quizzically at him, Lewis continued. “You know Saint Michael? Mighty archangel?” 

“You,” Dick said slowly. “Think I’m an angel?” 

“An archangel,” Lewis clarified. “With a sense of humor, apparently.” 

“Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?” Dick asked seriously. 

“There he goes again,” Lewis laughed. Dick grinned back at him, for no reason at all. 

Dick was right; Lewis ended up getting four stitches in his shin. He grimaced, and gripped the sides of the stool he sat on. Dick stood to the side, watching.   
Later, Dick helped Lewis hobble to his bed. The shock had worn off and now Lew was mostly just grousing. Lewis swiveled and faced Dick as he lowered himself onto his bed. Dick gripped his hand in an effort to keep him on balance. 

“You think they have pain killers in the med tent?” Lewis groaned. 

“It’s not that bad,” Dick said patiently. Lewis was on his bed now, but still had Dick’s hand in a vicelock. Dick stared down at their hands, but didn’t let go. Lewis hadn’t even seemed to notice.

“Says you,” Lew said after a pause. After another pause, he calmly let go of Dick’s hand, sliding his fingers down Dick’s palm as he let go. Dick held his hand suspended in the air for a confused moment. 

Dick turned awkwardly back to his bed. His hand felt like it was tingling, and he shook it a couple of times. 

Dick lay in his bed a long time that night, thinking.

After that night, Dick and Lewis became joined at the hip, and no one, not even Dick, stopped long enough to think about why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise!!! I knew where I wanted to go after chapter two and I had a bunch of free time today so I wrote it up real quick. Not a ton happening but I think it's a stepping stone chapter. Also I accidentally arrived at a Pride and Prejudice moment. It's not super long but I hope you like it!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys graduate jump school. Lewis gets drunk and climbs a mountain. Dick is there too.

There was a lulling dizziness to falling out of the sky. It was cold and gushy and windy, like being on a roller coaster. Despite the cold, your body was sweaty with adrenaline. Big blobs of blue and fluffy stray pieces of white combined with the terrifying sight of green and brown. Green and brown meant death, blue and white was a delay. 

Lewis took to falling right away. It was a time for form, strapping your arms to your chest, of curling and waiting for the silk chute to open above you, like the arms of an angel, or a cabaret dancer in a silk dress. Lewis was never scared of dying, though a few unfortunate men met that fate during training. He tried not to think of them, or their families who would have to work through a death on American soil, with no enemies in sight. Lew simply knew that if it was his time to go, he’d willingly go. 

He’d done so many jumps that by the time Easy got their wings, he was sick of it. It was just like him too, sick of danger just when he knew it wouldn’t kill him. The oozing dizziness was just like any good buzz, so why would Lewis go through all the trouble of jumping out of a perfectly good airplane? He could get that with some whiskey in his coffee and someone on his lap.  
There wasn’t any time to think of his boredom on graduation day. Lewis was too busy smoking through a pack of cigarettes, worrying his lip while Dick sat beside him. 

“Have you got your uniform out yet?” Dick said. He was probably trying to distract Lewis. 

“No,” he said. “Don’t wanna wrinkle it.” 

“Lew, you’re gonna have to iron it,” Dick chuckled. “It’s like a graduation gown.” 

“You’re not doing a very good job of it.”

“What?” 

“Distracting me? You’re not doing a very good job.” Lewis flicked his cigarette nub on the ground, and immediately lit up another one, which Dick took out of his mouth impatiently. 

“It can’t be good for you,” Dick dutifully put it out on the bench they were sitting on and stuck it back in Lew’s pack. “Not all at once.” 

“Blanche and my mother will be here soon anyways,” Lewis said. He stood up, looking around at the buzzing camp. The enlisted men were busy trying their dress uniforms on and taking showers and double-checking the train schedule. Almost everyone’s wife, mother, father, and sibling were descending upon Toccoa for the dinner and dance Colonel Sink was putting on for their graduation. 

“Yeah,” Dick sighed. “Ann and my parents will be coming anytime now.” Dick and Lewis stared at each other. They had to go to opposite platforms. Dick’s family was coming from Philadelphia, and Lew’s were coming from California. His mother Doris had spent more time than usual at their west coast home since his father had kicked the bucket. According to Blanche she’d spent most of her time on the yacht, drinking and complaining about Stanhope. 

“I’ll find you later, then,” Lewis said, resigned to the fact that he’d probably be spending the majority of his time away from Dick and the others that night. 

 

Lewis fell into the familiar but uncomfortable space that was between his sister and mother. Blanche was a lot like Kathy in the way that she was always overdressed and was always unimpressed. But she tolerated a lot from Lew, so he didn’t complain too much. His mother was a typical rich socialite who didn’t really have to time to be a mother. It happens.  
“Surely you’ll be fighting in cities,” Doris Nixon said about ten minutes after arriving in Toccoa. Her nose was wrinkled up at the dust their Cadillac had left in its wake. “Why couldn’t you be stationed closer to Atlanta?” Lewis rolled his eyes over to Blanche, who just lit a cigarette. 

The actual graduation ceremony was nice, and Lewis belly-laughed at Luz’s antics on stage when Sobel’s back was turned. Even Sink snickered. Lewis had been separated from his family and he had a good view of Dick and Harry from his chair. If he could just stay wrapped up in the sea of dark brown wool around him, he’d be alright. 

“Lieutenant Nixon,” Colonel Sink called, and Lew ambled up to the stage. His shiny wings were pinned to him by a begrudging Sobel. He couldn’t help but be a little proud of himself. His prep school days prepared him for the public eye, and while Toccoa wasn’t exactly Madison Square Garden, he felt at ease, and gave the crowd an amiable smile as he made his way back to his seat. 

When Dick was called, Harry whistled, and Lewis beamed. He looked like a goddamn all-American. He couldn’t believe what good company he’d wriggled his way into. 

Afterwards, there were drinks and dancing and appetizers. Lewis and his sister were racing their way to the bottom of a third whiskey and coke in amiable silence. There was a local band, who weren’t half-bad, as long as they stuck to the standards. Lewis could feel his cheeks flush slowly, and before he knew it he could feel the heat go all the way down to his neck. He relished the feeling. 

His mother, who had grown more bored by the second, had given their hotel a call to arrange for a car to pick her up. Blanche would take the Cadillac back. 

“You know I love to see you but honestly I can’t see what all the fuss is about,” Doris said on her way out the door. “I’ll call you, dear.” 

“Love you too, mother,” Lewis said to her back, reaching for a glass of champagne. Blanche was soon being asked to dance, and who was Lewis to stand in the way of Blanche’s fun? He watched her spin with someone from Fox company, and admired her ability to make the best out of every situation. 

“Gotta light?” Lewis turned at the sound, and saw Ronald Speirs with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. 

“Sure Sparky,” Lewis lit the cigarette for him, careful not to let his silver lighter stray too close to Ron’s hand. He liked that lighter.  
Ron stared at him, and Lewis smiled back evenly. He and Ron drank together and gambled together, but they didn’t quite understand each other otherwise. 

“He’s got no sense of poetry,” Lew had said once to Dick. Dick had just laughed. 

“That your sister?” Ron asked, pointing to Blanche grinning and smoking in the crowd. 

“Mhm,” Lew said, looking around for something else to drink. “That’s Blanche.” 

“You look like her,” Ron said, puffing out a large cloud of smoke. “You have the same eyes.” 

It was an odd thing to say. 

“I don’t think so,” Lewis said immediately. “I look too much like my father.” 

“I wouldn’t know,” Ron said. He turned abruptly then, and stalked off. Lewis had to laugh.

“What?” 

Lewis turned to see the cinnamon eyelashes of Dick Winters. His cheeks were flushed, like he’d had a drink, and the corner of his mouth twitched upward so slightly that Lewis had to stare at it to make sure it was there. 

It took Lewis a moment to respond. There was a tightness in his chest he didn’t recognize. “There you are. I was afraid you’d gotten lost.” His voice was even and smooth, and he was satisfied. Prep school had been good for two things, it turned out.

Dick smiled at him curiously, and drifted closer. “Where’s the family?”

Lewis pointed to Blanche and explained about his mother, but he wasn’t really upset about it. It didn’t really matter anymore. 

“What about your family?” Lewis inquired. Dick pointed them out. Ann had long blonde hair, and was in rapt conversation with Compton, who handed her a coke and laughed good-naturedly. 

Lew waited a beat, to see if Dick would invite him to go meet them, but Dick kept quiet, and bit his lip. 

“Ron said I looked like Blanche, but I don’t see it.”  
“Siblings never do,” Dick said. “Believe it or not, Ann was a redhead as a toddler.” 

“Blonde suits her though,” Lewis said. “She’s sunny.” Dick looked proudly over at her, and shook his head. 

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment. All around them, there were loud laughs and smoke and the soft light above glinted warmly over the dark wood walls. Lewis almost felt like he was back in a bar in New York City. He thought of the The Green Lantern, where his father brought him for business meetings. Stanhope told Lewis to recite his knowledge about the stock exchange and light all the men’s cigars. Lew remembered all the pomade he’d put in his hair, and how important it made him feel. 

A low, whistling noise started in Lew’s left ear, and thundered across his mind into his right ear. He looked at Dick, and life was almost in slow motion, for just a second. He looked at Dick, and saw the St. Michael he first saw at OCS. Incorruptible. He felt giddy and manic, low and high at the same time. 

“You know, it’s funny,” Lewis said madly. 

“What is?” Dick said, not sensing the danger yet. 

“I wish my father was here,” Lewis laughed, to emphasize the sudden tilt of his world. 

Dick turned fully to him, he was so close Lewis could count the freckles on his cheek. “That’s not funny. It’s normal.” It was just like Dick to be well-adjusted. 

Lewis made a non-committal noise in his throat, and flashed a smirk, turning to look at Dick, to lean into him with a laugh. “Well, it’s just that he hated me. I wonder why I would miss the guy.” 

In that moment, Lewis wished very much that Dick would refute his claim. But Dick never lied intentionally, and so he only looked worriedly at him. 

“You know,” Lewis continued, because he could never control himself when he got like this. “Before I went to Fort Dix, he pitched a framed picture of me through the third-floor window of our brownstone.” Dick stared in silent horror. “Such drama.” 

Dick grabbed his elbow then, and pulled him across the crowded room. He smiled at his parents and Ann, and Lewis had to admit the smile looked perfectly pleasant and untroubled. Maybe Dick was as good a liar as Lewis, or even Ron Speirs.  
Outside, the night air was crisp. Music drifted from inside, and made Lew’s melancholy ratchet up. “What are we doing out here?” he asked. 

“I don’t know,” Dick said. 

Lewis let the tightness seep from his chest. He took a deep breath, and the image of his father’s coffin dripped down the back of his eyelids. 

Lewis considered Dick. He stood straight, like a good soldier, and he’d put on his hat, even though it was dark, and no one was around. He kept his eyes down, but it just looked like he was in prayer, which didn’t help the vaguely religious feelings Lew got when he gazed at him. Dick moved slowly, in determined motions, even when he was standing still. It wasn’t hard, but it was guarded. Lewis was smooth, he was charming and loose, but take a look beyond the surface, and he was one huge cry for help. Lewis couldn’t tell what Dick wanted. He only knew that now he was in a position to take time to figure it out. 

“Hey,” Lew clapped him on his back. Dick looked obediently up at him. “I’ll release you for the night. Say hello to your parents from me.” 

“Where are you going?” Dick asked. Lew thought maybe there was an edge of panic in his voice. Maybe. 

For once Lewis didn’t keep his nocturnal activities from the archangel. “I’m going to go get drunk and watch the sun rise.” 

“Lew-” 

“Nope. It’s a final decision.” Lewis put his hand on Dick’s shoulder. To his surprise, Dick clapped his hand over Lew’s for a moment. It burned slightly, and Lewis pulled away. 

“What about Blanche?” 

“She doesn’t need me,” Lewis said, not meaning for it to come off as self-deprecating as it sounded. “Why don’t you come meet me on Currahee at 0600?” 

 

The next time Lew saw Dick, he was good and drunk. He was drunk in a way he never was on base. The higher-ups, including Sobel, had left hours earlier, and it was easy enough for Lew to steal a bottle of whiskey and a few beers from the party. 

He stumbled up Currahee, laughing at his clumsy footwork. It was chilly out, chilly enough that he could see his breath. The dew on the grass glinted as the world brightened slowly around Lew. When he plopped onto the soft red earth, he could see the pink and orange sun coming to evaporate the wet and dark of the night. It wasn’t the first sunrise he’d seen, but it was one of the better ones. 

Then came Dick, in his dress slacks, button down, and leather jacket. He walked slowly, and the sun rose with him. The copper of his hair bled into the sky, and painted swirls in Lew’s dizzy eyes. He smiled when he saw Lewis leaned over in the grass and dirt and wildflowers. He looked relieved. 

“At easy, Lieutenant,” Lewis said. He mock-saluted him. He unthinkingly grabbed Dick’s warm wrist, and pulled him onto the ground. Dick went with him, pliant and comfortable. 

Lewis could tell Dick was looking at him, not at the sunrise, and he felt a jolt of satisfaction. He didn’t ponder why. It didn’t seem to matter. 

“Do you do this a lot?” Dick said. Lewis didn’t turn to look at him. 

“I’ve stayed up a fair few nights, yeah,” Lewis said. “None that ended like this though.” 

“Ended like what?” Dick edged up, putting himself in Lew’s peripheral vision. 

“I dunno,” Lewis said. “Happy, I guess.” 

Dick definitely wasn’t expecting that answer, and he stayed silent. Lewis finally looked back at him. He looked fresh and clean. Lewis could feel the puffiness of alcohol and the smell of loneliness on himself, and he momentarily felt awful about sucking Dick into his orbit. But he smelled Dick’s toothpaste, and he saw his cleanly-shaven jaw and remembered. Incorruptible. 

“Let’s go get some breakfast, huh?” Dick said, soothingly. Lew supposed he needed that. “We’ll have first pick. It’s the good stuff, because they want to impress our families and friends.” 

Lewis gulped, thinking of Dick’s girl back home. He wondered why she hadn’t come. He wasn’t going to ask. “Will they have pastries?” he asked, still drunk.  
“I’m sure,” Dick said, chuckling a bit. 

Lewis let Dick lead him off the mountain, let him pour Lew a big cup of coffee, let him watch carefully as he mindlessly ate the cherry doughnut he’d requested. Dick talked about his sister, about how his parents were only staying until later that night, and how excited he was to have the whole weekend to himself. Lewis listened diligently, but said almost nothing, which made Dick watch him even more carefully. Lew couldn’t tell how that made him feel. 

Dick followed Lewis into their barracks, and they went to their respective beds. Lewis crawled into his cold sheets, and had never been more thankful for cleanliness of the army. The bed smelled like detergent and cotton, which was kind of like what Dick smelled like. 

Just before Lew drifted into a dead sleep, Dick came over to him. 

“You made it, paratrooper,” he said. Coming from anyone else, it would have seemed disingenuous, but it made Lewis smile to hear it come from Dick. 

“Get outta here.” Lewis pushed his legs away from the bed. The last thing he heard before sleep was Dick’s light, bright laughter in the morning air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like my chapters are disjointed and very stream of consciousness and vignette-style. I hope that if you're still reading you like it. I like it, and I write each chapter when I'm in a mood, and that mood hasn't been the same for any chapter. I'm keeping up a vague plot, but honestly I like stories that just focus on boring everyday stuff, so I hope you like my roaming writing lol. 
> 
> ALSO. Thank you so much for all the comments. I keep meaning to reply, so if anyone comments after this chapter I promise I will respond I'm just lazy and worry I'll bug people.
> 
> ALSO ALSO. I think I'm def projecting onto Lewis, so I'm sorry he is receiving so much angst. You know how it is.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The holidays have arrived, and Dick departs, leaving Lewis on a train platform.

Lewis was irritated. It came out in the hard line of his mouth, in the angry clatter of his coffee mug on the counter, and in the way he flung himself from anyone who tried to coax him into a smile or laugh.

“More coffee, Lew?” Dick asked. He knew Lewis wouldn’t refuse more caffeine, and it was probably the safest thing to ask him.

“Yeah,” Lewis said, handing Dick his cup, not taking his eyes off the book he was pouring over. He didn’t see the frustrated quirk of Dick’s mouth.

They had graduated Jump School, but remained in Toccoa until the holidays. Thanksgiving was just around the corner, and the men were like rabid school children who could smell free time and home cooking. Dick spent the days running drills and studying tactical textbooks in the library. Word was that more paratrooper recruits were coming through Toccoa, and for the time  
being, the officers would stay behind to train new men while the enlisted would move on to Camp Croft in South Carolina for more training.

Dick was keening over Lewis, but to anyone else it would look like casual interest. He filled up Lew’s coffee cup (no cream no sugar), and went back to his own desk. Every twenty minutes or so, Dick would walk across their little office, and look out the window, and glance at Lew, and come closer to his desk, before circling back to his corner. He looked like a slightly anxious dog.

Lewis had been pulled for work in intelligence, and rightly so, because Dick hadn’t seen a better tactical mind, even among the brass. Whatever Lewis was working so deliberately on had come from HQ, and the glimpses Dick snuck didn’t make any sense to him.

“Stop,” Lewis said, drawn out and patient. He made a quick note, and glanced up at Dick. Dick felt guilty, like he’d been caught cheating on a test. “Stop what?”

“Padding around here like a lunatic. This floor is new ya know,” he said, deadpan. He threw down his pen for a moment, but picked it right back up and jotted down another thought.

There was a beat, and Dick sat down in his chair obediently.

“What’s eating you?” Lewis said. His voice was harsher than normal.

You are. “ Just restless I guess.” Dick wasn’t used to lying, but he didn’t know why Lew’s sulkiness bothered him so much, and so he sat on it.

“Pennsylvania is a great place for the holidays,” Lewis said, guessing at what Dick was restless about. He was wrong, but it was a good guess. On any other day he’d probably be right.

“I like the leaves. And the snow,” Dick said. He was briefly swept back home, and felt a pang for his sister and their dog. “What about you?   
California or New York for the holidays?”

Lewis scrunched up his nose like he thought something was funny. Then he shook his head and let go a laugh that came out like a huff.

“Washington, D.C.,” he said simply. 

“What?”

Lewis put down his notebook and stood up. He walked closer to Dick’s desk, stretching his arms over his head as he went. “My family is pretty big in the navy. Since my old man croaked we’ve had lots of invites to holiday parties. I guess it’s a condolence prize.”

“Is your family famous?” Dick asked dumbly.

Lewis considered. “My grandfather single-handedly designed naval warships, and a few of my relatives were politicians. My father is an obscenely wealthy capitalist.”

“So?”

“Yeah, Dick,” Lew allowed. “Kind of.”

Dick nodded. “That’ll be nice,” he tried to say with a straight face. Lewis didn’t buy it and laughed outright at him. “At least the food will be good.”

“That is true,” Lewis conceded.

Dick took a deep breath, and after Lew went back to his desk, he made himself stay locked at his own. 

They spent a couple more hours like that, flipping through books and maps, with the occasional sound of typing. Lew was somehow a master at the typewriter, and there was a seamless motion and harmony to his fingers hitting the keys. Dick was clunky, hitting one key at a time. Every once in a while Lew would stare at Dick out of the corner of his eye, his mouth in a poorly hidden laugh. Dick ignored him.

A few days passed, and suddenly Dick was packing for his holiday furlough. Many of the enlisted men had been let off earlier than the officers, and Toccoa was growing quieter by the day. Dick became more restless with every trooper lost.

He also felt an increasing gnawing at the prospect of being without his friends. He didn’t know how to explain everything that had happened while the army was training him. Sure, he’d come home before, but now that everything was so close, it felt different. It felt real. It was lazy of him, but he just wanted to be around people that he didn’t have to explain to. People like Compton or Harry. Or Lew.

Lewis remained grumpy and irritable, and whenever Dick tried to pry, it backfired on him. Lewis would shrug and become silent for a few hours, or worse yet he’d stalk off and go bother Welsh or Speirs, complaining about the mess coffee or drills or Sobel. Welsh would be stuck, sometimes for an hour, whereas when Lew went to Speirs, Dick often had to break up the fight that ensued from Speirs telling Lew to buzz off.

The day Dick was due to leave for Pennsylvania came at last. Dick thought he was feeling homesick, which made him confused. He didn’t think about it.

At the platform, Lewis came to see Dick off. He looked surly as usual, but maybe not too grumpy this time. Dick dropped his duffel at his feet and smiled as Lewis walked towards him.

“At ease, Lieutenant,” Lewis drawled. He mock saluted Dick, which he always found endearing.

“Around you? Always,” Dick said. He looked Lewis up and down. He was dangerously close to civilian wear, sporting only his dress slacks and dark brown button-down. He had no brass on him at all. If he hadn’t had his jacket slung over his arm, he could be mistaken as 4-F. Dick was the one leaving, and he was sporting everything, even his hat.

“I want you to have the best goddamn all-American Thanksgiving,” Lewis put his hand on Dick’s shoulder and pointed at him. “Eat everything. Including the cranberry sauce.”

“Will do,” Dick said quietly. The gnawing had started again in his chest, but his stomach was fluttering, and Dick was excited to go home, but dreading it, and the result was Dick flushing and sighing.

Lew’s eyes flickered with confusion, and maybe amusement. “All right there Dick?”

“Yeah, sure,” Dick said. He could hear the train’s whistle rumbling in the distance. “Hey Nix?” 

“Yeah?”

“Gimme a call, would ya? Let me know what Thanksgiving is like in our nation’s capital.”

“Whatever you want. Here,” Lewis pulled a small pad of paper out of his jacket pocket. He flipped through some map readings and notes before finding a clean page. “Jot down your number.”  
Dick’s hands were sweaty, and he quickly scribbled his number before quickly giving it to Lew. The train had pulled up, and there was a flurry of activity. He picked up his duffel, and smiled at Lewis.

“It won’t be that long. Just a week,” Dick said like Lewis had said he would miss Dick or something.

Lewis laughed through his nose, and abruptly pulled Dick into a one-armed hug. It didn’t last long, but Dick went into it naturally, and things felt right, they clicked into place. His previous anxiety melted, and he felt contented for the first time in a long while.

“Happy Thanksgiving Nix,” Dick whispered. They parted, and Dick backed away towards the train.

“See you soon, Red.”

 

Dick spent the beginning of the train ride home in a contented state. The countryside north of the Carolinas was bright orange and red. Dick pulled out one of his sweaters from college he’d stowed in his bag, and napped all the way through Virginia.

When they reached Union Station in D.C., Dick stared at the huge depot full of important looking men rushing to get the train to their countryside mansions. The cities were emptying out, yet his pal Lewis Nixon would be here in just a few hours. Dick thought of all the booze he’d drink, all the cigarettes he’d smoke. He wasn’t sure if Nix even liked turkey. Surely Nix liked everything that was indulgent.

He crossed into Maryland and his thoughts drifted to his family. Ann had written about the turkey dad had gotten from in town. He was sore because it was the first one he hadn’t killed himself. Dick had hated hunting, but his dad was the best shot in Lebanon county. His mom was probably making the stuffing right now, while their dog Bobby begged from the floor. Ann was probably straightening out her room, and then the living room. It was probably warm, and the house probably smelled of cinnamon and herbs.

There was an uncomfortable feeling growing under Dick’s stomach, pooling uncomfortably. He tried to pull his childhood thoughts close to him, to make him feel excitement or contentment at going home. Sure, he was excited to see his family, but the thought of actually being in Pennsylvania turned his insides. The more he thought about it, the more his old college sweater itched at the back of his neck. When the train pulled into Philadelphia, Dick had pulled it off and stuffed it back into his duffel.

On the smaller train that carried Dick to Lancaster, he thought more about Lew. He thought about Harry and Buck and Talbot too, but mostly he thought of Lew. It was the first Thanksgiving without his father. Dick had never met the man, but he had a feeling Lewis had a right to talk about him the way he did. He hoped Lewis would be kept busy enough with events and parties to be able to go off and drink alone.

He’d seemed fidgety at the train station. Was it just because he was going home? Why had Dick asked him to give him a call? By this time next week he’d see Lew again. Dick felt silly about the whole thing.

But Lewis had been the one to hug him, so he mustn’t have been put out. Dick was staring out the window, looking at the rolling hills, but not seeing them. Instead he saw the side of Lew’s neck, pressing into his face on the train platform. Dick felt the scrape of his non-regulation stubble. He smelled like soap and coffee. The thought made Dick blush. Lewis had smelled like that the night he’d come to find him writing letters in the lecture hall. He’d also smelled like rain and tobacco.

It seemed like all of their relationship was passing before Dick’s eyes. He thought of the stitches Lew complained about on his leg, of that time Lew lost his pass because of a can of peaches. Lewis rolling into bed when Dick was just getting up. Dick loved the way Lew’s hair would be raked up in the back when he’d emerge several hours later to drink as much coffee as possible in one sitting. He loved hearing Lewis summarizing the newspaper while hungover and grousing.

When the train stopped, there was a lurching in Dick’s stomach. He was thinking of when he and Nix and Welsh and Lipton had been sitting around one night after a particularly gruelling day. Lipton relayed the story of Speirs crashing a car into the side of Currahee, and getting away with it. Once everyone had stopped belly-laughing, Welsh had started in on the many letters he’d received from Kitty.

“She’s got the best handwriting,” Welsh said. “It’s all loopy, but messy at the same time.”

“Compton says his girl’s letters aren’t even legible,” Lipton laughed. “But they’ve got hearts all over them, so he gets the gist.”

“What about you, Winters?”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t you have a girl you’re writing to?” Welsh asked. “DeStella or something?”

“DeEtta,” Dick corrects. “She’s not my girl. Her handwriting is normal I guess.”

Welsh was bored by that answer, so he pulled out a pack of cards and told Lipton to go find Speirs. Dick got up, and Lewis followed.

They made their way back to the barracks, and went about their night routine in the normal way, until Lewis broke the comfortable silence.

“My handwriting is awful, ya know,” Lewis smiled, he head poking through the neck of the tee shirt he was putting on. “So sorry in advance.”

Dick cocked his head in confusion. He almost asked when Lewis was supposed to be writing him letters, but he stopped himself. He just smiled at Lew, who had already turned away.

When Dick stepped off the train in Lancaster, his head was spinning, and he was back with Lewis in that moment, even as Ann ran to him, her blonde hair glinting off the chilly sunshine of Pennsylvania.

Dick swallowed, making himself come back to reality, forcing revelations down until he had filled his mind with his sister and parents and the smell of the Chevrolet as they barreled back to their farmhouse.

“I put my sewing machine in your room, dear,” Dick’s mom said. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” Dick said. “It’s not really my room anymore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving and happy Thursday if you don’t celebrate haha. 
> 
> I absolutely love holiday fics and pining so this was a joy to write. Hope you enjoy!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick and Lew really meet in England

England was beautiful; Dick was enamored the moment they stepped foot on British soil. Lewis snorted when he heard this. 

“Of course you love it. It looks exactly like Pennsylvania.” 

“It’s older.” 

“Well, yeah. But England is older than everything.” 

Easy, having finished the holiday season, and having spent their last night in the comfort of Georgia, had finally shipped away from home, to the comfort of southeast England. The first two weeks they were there Dick had hardly looked away from the roaming fields and old cobbled houses.   
“You do know this is just a waiting pen,” Lewis said one Monday morning, coffee in his hand and cigarette dangling from his mouth. “Before the big dance.” 

“I thought you liked Europe.” 

“I liked it a lot better when it wasn’t smoldering.” Lewis talked like a wronged man. He proclaimed himself as a New York man, but he’d gone to a boarding school in Connecticut and London, with a grand tour of Europe after graduation. He’d learned to speak French on the banks of the Seine, and he told Dick of Christmas mass in some grand old cathedral in Ireland. It was all dewy and glowing in Dick’s mind. 

Dick and Lewis saw less of each other since England, and it made banter like this all the more treasured. The mess they were sitting in was a converted barn, and the draft threatened to creep its way down Dick’s neck. Lew was almost always bundled up in his coat, sometimes his leather one, and this morning wasn’t an exception. He had a civilian scarf wrapped around his neck, which was tucked into his heavy field jacket. He looked dour and put-out, which made Dick just a little bit warmer. 

“What’s on the golden boy’s schedule today?” Lew pronounced ‘schedule’ with the British ‘shh’ noise, and Dick’s mouth twitched. 

“Meetings, mostly,” Dick sighed. “The Tommys are taking over calisthenics today. Meehan thought it would be good to have variety.” 

“Never thought I’d hear the word ‘variety’ associated with the army’s day to day operations.” 

“Yeah, well,” Dick said. “It’s only one day.” 

 

They departed after that, and Dick went back to admiring the countryside. He loved walking past the stone walls and running his hands over the rounded edges. He loved the daffodils and wildflowers that sprung up at the base of them, and the little arches that led to gardens and open fields. If he hadn’t been dressed all in olive, he felt almost at home in the brown and green country. 

Even when he was stuck inside, he glanced outside often. Over the course of an hour, it could be drizzling, then sunny, then partly cloudy, and back to drizzling again. While other people were complaining of the musty smell of old buildings, Dick was looking forward to an evening run in the damp streets. 

The dirt streets were slightly muddy by seven in the evening, but Dick had stashed away an old pair of running shoes from home. They were worn and perfect for a post-dinner jog. 

He rounded the bend in the road, following the small walls that kept the English gardens in place. It was drizzling, and his breath came fast, sweat dripping down his back with the rain. Dick went somewhere else, leaving his body, rocked by the steady pace of his feet. His fears of the war were soothed, as all of his energy went into keeping his breathing even. 

Dick entered the wooded area next to Albourne at a dizzying speed. It was fully raining now, and the light of the town was fading as the sun set. 

Dick’s foot caught a stray branch, and he slid on the mud, careening for balance. He hooked his arm on a tree near to the path, and skidded to a halt. 

All Dick could hear was the rain and his heavy breathing. 

 

Later, as Dick was coming back, he saw Lew’s light on in his house. He decided to drift up to him. 

The front door was open, as usual. Lewis had taken the only house in town with no occupants. While Dick had become a surrogate son to his family, Lewis had bundled himself away. He said being an officer had to have some perks. 

Dick could hear some bluesy jazz number playing in Lew’s loft bedroom. 

“Nix?” Dick creaked the door open, and bright white socks perched on the dark desk in the middle of the room. “What’re you doing?” 

Lew’s eyes were slightly glassy, his cheeks flushed, and when he turned to look at Dick, he swayed to the left, as if overcorrecting his movements. “I’m just enjoying myself.” 

Dick rolled his eyes, but came into the room proper. Lewis got up and cleared papers and books from his bed so Dick could sit there. Then he collapsed back into his desk chair. 

There was such a comfort in Lew’s room that Dick just wanted to lay down on his bed and sleep. It had started storming as he got back into town, and he had no desire to make his way over to his house. 

“What’s going on, Dick?” 

Dick couldn’t explain the feeling that had cropped up in his chest. It felt like the rain and running had knocked something loose. “I’m tired.” 

“Well it’s a great night for sleeping,” Nix said. He got up and flipped his record, then lit a cigarette. “Really idyllic actually.” 

Dick focused on the red tip of Lew’s smoke. “When you came here, before,” Dick asked. “Where was your favorite place?” 

Lew glances over Dick, enough to make him want to squirm. “I loved Paris. The little alleyways and all the bars.” 

“Did you like London?” 

“London was grittier,” Lewis’ voice was rough, and consumed Dick’s senses. “But it also felt cozier.” 

Dick wandered closer to Lew, who was leaning against the table that had his records. Lew was in a tee, and Dick could see his dog tags under his collar. Lewis looked up at Dick. 

“I think I could live here,” Dick said. “It’s tucked away, it has farmland.” 

“What about Pennsylvania?” 

“I don’t know.” Dick hadn’t ever voiced this thought before, but the thought of Pennsylvania set a knot in his stomach. “I just have a feeling that I won’t be the same person after this.” 

“Well that’s true,” Lewis said. He put out his cigarette. “I feel like I’m someone different from even a few months ago.” 

Lewis looked wilted suddenly, and he was possessed to stand directly in front of Lewis, with his hands on Lew’s shoulders. “I think you seem the same.” 

Lewis looked up at Dick, surprised. “I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.” 

Dick quirked his mouth. “I don’t know, Lew.” 

The moment was heavy, and Dick smelled the alcohol and cigarette on Lew’s breath. 

“I like England,” Lewis almost whispered. “It’s quiet.” 

Lewis stood to his full height, and closed the gap between him and Dick. He kissed Dick, pushed him against the opposite wall, away from the window, away from everything. Dick was immediately dizzy with it, and he let out a sigh as Lewis kissed his jaw, and then his ear, and then his neck. 

“Lew,” Dick sighed over and over. He ran his hands through Lew’s hair, which made him shiver and giggle. He tried to open his eyes, to look at Lewis as he kissed him, but the sensation pulled his eyelids closed, and finally he leaned his head against the wall, body loose and warm. 

It was a long time before Nix broke apart from Dick. 

“I’m a little drunk,” Nix said. There was a mix of elation and fear in his eyes. 

“You are,” Dick said, not unkindly. He put his hand on Lew’s cheek, which was hot and flushed. “You always are.” 

Lewis leaned away from Dick, and slid down the wall a little. Dick instinctively came closer, and Lew rested his head on Dick’s stomach. He put his hands in Lew’s hair again. 

Dick supposed they should talk about it, talk about what was going on, but he stayed quiet. Dick’s stomach was fluttering and he felt light. He didn’t want to ruin that. 

“Lew?” Dick asked, when it was clear he wasn’t moving. “Are you alright?” 

Lewis pulled himself up. “I like England.” 

Dick let himself kiss Lew softly a couple of times. The alcohol had really seemed to hit him now, and he slumped into Dick. “I think you should lie down.” 

It was easy enough for Lew to pull his pajamas on while Dick got him a glass of water from the kitchen. Dick glanced out at the road he’d jogged on earlier. It looked like a river.   
Lewis gulped the water down, and sat up in bed, his legs dangling off the high frame. He pulled Dick in between his legs. 

“You know,” he said with an air of confidence Dick knew would fade with sobriety. “It’s not just because you’re handsome.” 

“But it plays a part?” Dick asked, uncomfortable. He crossed his arms, but Lew kept him close. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, quietly into Dick’s ear. “I know you don’t like to be teased.” 

When Lew got him on the bed, Dick knew he was lost. Lewis kissed him until he was quiet and sleepy. Dick fell asleep listening to the rain, wrapped in Lew’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi i'm back and I love England.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick and Lew really meet in England

England was beautiful; Dick was enamored the moment they stepped foot on British soil. Lewis snorted when he heard this.   
“Of course you love it. It looks exactly like Pennsylvania.”   
“It’s older.”   
“Well, yeah. But England is older than everything.”   
Easy, having finished the holiday season, and having spent their last night in the comfort of Georgia, had finally shipped away from home, to the comfort of southeast England. The first two weeks they were there Dick had hardly looked away from the roaming fields and old cobbled houses.   
“You do know this is just a waiting pen,” Lewis said one Monday morning, coffee in his hand and cigarette dangling from his mouth. “Before the big dance.”   
“I thought you liked Europe.”   
“I liked it a lot better when it wasn’t smoldering.” Lewis talked like a wronged man. He proclaimed himself as a New York man, but he’d gone to a boarding school in Connecticut and London, with a grand tour of Europe after graduation. He’d learned to speak French on the banks of the Seine, and he told Dick of Christmas mass in some grand old cathedral in Ireland. It was all dewy and glowing in Dick’s mind.   
Dick and Lewis saw less of each other since England, and it made banter like this all the more treasured. The mess they were sitting in was a converted barn, and the draft threatened to creep its way down Dick’s neck. Lew was almost always bundled up in his coat, sometimes his leather one, and this morning wasn’t an exception. He had a civilian scarf wrapped around his neck, which was tucked into his heavy field jacket. He looked dour and put-out, which made Dick just a little bit warmer.   
“What’s on the golden boy’s schedule today?” Lew pronounced ‘schedule’ with the British ‘shh’ noise, and Dick’s mouth twitched.   
“Meetings, mostly,” Dick sighed. “The Tommys are taking over calisthenics today. Meehan thought it would be good to have variety.”   
“Never thought I’d hear the word ‘variety’ associated with the army’s day to day operations.”   
“Yeah, well,” Dick said. “It’s only one day.” 

 

They departed after that, and Dick went back to admiring the countryside. He loved walking past the stone walls and running his hands over the rounded edges. He loved the daffodils and wildflowers that sprung up at the base of them, and the little arches that led to gardens and open fields. If he hadn’t been dressed all in olive, he felt almost at home in the brown and green country.   
Even when he was stuck inside, he glanced outside often. Over the course of an hour, it could be drizzling, then sunny, then partly cloudy, and back to drizzling again. While other people were complaining of the musty smell of old buildings, Dick was looking forward to an evening run in the damp streets.   
The dirt streets were slightly muddy by seven in the evening, but Dick had stashed away an old pair of running shoes from home. They were worn and perfect for a post-dinner jog.   
He rounded the bend in the road, following the small walls that kept the English gardens in place. It was drizzling, and his breath came fast, sweat dripping down his back with the rain. Dick went somewhere else, leaving his body, rocked by the steady pace of his feet. His fears of the war were soothed, as all of his energy went into keeping his breathing even.   
Dick entered the wooded area next to Albourne at a dizzying speed. It was fully raining now, and the light of the town was fading as the sun set.   
Dick’s foot caught a stray branch, and he slid on the mud, careening for balance. He hooked his arm on a tree near to the path, and skidded to a halt.   
All Dick could hear was the rain and his heavy breathing. 

Later, as Dick was coming back, he saw Lew’s light on in his house. He decided to drift up to him.   
The front door was open, as usual. Lewis had taken the only house in town with no occupants. While Dick had become a surrogate son to his family, Lewis had bundled himself away. He said being an officer had to have some perks.   
Dick could hear some bluesy jazz number playing in Lew’s loft bedroom.   
“Nix?” Dick creaked the door open, and bright white socks perched on the dark desk in the middle of the room. “What’re you doing?”   
Lew’s eyes were slightly glassy, his cheeks flushed, and when he turned to look at Dick, he swayed to the left, as if overcorrecting his movements. “I’m just enjoying myself.”   
Dick rolled his eyes, but came into the room proper. Lewis got up and cleared papers and books from his bed so Dick could sit there. Then he collapsed back into his desk chair.   
There was such a comfort in Lew’s room that Dick just wanted to lay down on his bed and sleep. It had started storming as he got back into town, and he had no desire to make his way over to his house.   
“What’s going on, Dick?”   
Dick couldn’t explain the feeling that had cropped up in his chest. It felt like the rain and running had knocked something loose. “I’m tired.”   
“Well it’s a great night for sleeping,” Nix said. He got up and flipped his record, then lit a cigarette. “Really idyllic actually.”   
Dick focused on the red tip of Lew’s smoke. “When you came here, before,” Dick asked. “Where was your favorite place?”   
Lew glances over Dick, enough to make him want to squirm. “I loved Paris. The little alleyways and all the bars.”   
“Did you like London?”   
“London was grittier,” Lewis’ voice was rough, and consumed Dick’s senses. “But it also felt cozier.”   
Dick wandered closer to Lew, who was leaning against the table that had his records. Lew was in a tee, and Dick could see his dog tags under his collar. Lewis looked up at Dick.   
“I think I could live here,” Dick said. “It’s tucked away, it has farmland.”   
“What about Pennsylvania?”   
“I don’t know.” Dick hadn’t ever voiced this thought before, but the thought of Pennsylvania set a knot in his stomach. “I just have a feeling that I won’t be the same person after this.”   
“Well that’s true,” Lewis said. He put out his cigarette. “I feel like I’m someone different from even a few months ago.”   
Lewis looked wilted suddenly, and he was possessed to stand directly in front of Lewis, with his hands on Lew’s shoulders. “I think you seem the same.”   
Lewis looked up at Dick, surprised. “I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.”   
Dick quirked his mouth. “I don’t know, Lew.”   
The moment was heavy, and Dick smelled the alcohol and cigarette on Lew’s breath.   
“I like England,” Lewis almost whispered. “It’s quiet.”   
Lewis stood to his full height, and closed the gap between him and Dick. He kissed Dick, pushed him against the opposite wall, away from the window, away from everything. Dick was immediately dizzy with it, and he let out a sigh as Lewis kissed his jaw, and then his ear, and then his neck.   
“Lew,” Dick sighed over and over. He ran his hands through Lew’s hair, which made him shiver and giggle. He tried to open his eyes, to look at Lewis as he kissed him, but the sensation pulled his eyelids closed, and finally he leaned his head against the wall, body loose and warm.   
It was a long time before Nix broke apart from Dick.   
“I’m a little drunk,” Nix said. There was a mix of elation and fear in his eyes.   
“You are,” Dick said, not unkindly. He put his hand on Lew’s cheek, which was hot and flushed. “You always are.”   
Lewis leaned away from Dick, and slid down the wall a little. Dick instinctively came closer, and Lew rested his head on Dick’s stomach. He put his hands in Lew’s hair again.   
Dick supposed they should talk about it, talk about what was going on, but he stayed quiet. Dick’s stomach was fluttering and he felt light. He didn’t want to ruin that.   
“Lew?” Dick asked, when it was clear he wasn’t moving. “Are you alright?”   
Lewis pulled himself up. “I like England.”   
Dick let himself kiss Lew softly a couple of times. The alcohol had really seemed to hit him now, and he slumped into Dick. “I think you should lie down.”   
It was easy enough for Lew to pull his pajamas on while Dick got him a glass of water from the kitchen. Dick glanced out at the road he’d jogged on earlier. It looked like a river.   
Lewis gulped the water down, and sat up in bed, his legs dangling off the high frame. He pulled Dick in between his legs.   
“You know,” he said with an air of confidence Dick knew would fade with sobriety. “It’s not just because you’re handsome.”   
“But it plays a part?” Dick asked, uncomfortable. He crossed his arms, but Lew kept him close.   
“I’m sorry,” he said, quietly into Dick’s ear. “I know you don’t like to be teased.”   
When Lew got him on the bed, Dick knew he was lost. Lewis kissed him until he was quiet and sleepy. Dick fell asleep listening to the rain, wrapped in Lew’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi i'm back and I love England.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick and Lew really meet in England

England was beautiful; Dick was enamored the moment they stepped foot on British soil. Lewis snorted when he heard this. 

 

“Of course you love it. It looks exactly like Pennsylvania.” 

 

“It’s older.” 

 

“Well, yeah. But England is older than everything.” 

 

Easy, having finished the holiday season, and having spent their last night in the comfort of Georgia, had finally shipped away from home, to the comfort of southeast England. The first two weeks they were there Dick had hardly looked away from the roaming fields and old cobbled houses. 

“You do know this is just a waiting pen,” Lewis said one Monday morning, coffee in his hand and cigarette dangling from his mouth. “Before the big dance.” 

 

“I thought you liked Europe.” 

 

“I liked it a lot better when it wasn’t smoldering.” Lewis talked like a wronged man. He proclaimed himself as a New York man, but he’d gone to a boarding school in Connecticut and London, with a grand tour of Europe after graduation. He’d learned to speak French on the banks of the Seine, and he told Dick of Christmas mass in some grand old cathedral in Ireland. It was all dewy and glowing in Dick’s mind. 

 

Dick and Lewis saw less of each other since England, and it made banter like this all the more treasured. The mess they were sitting in was a converted barn, and the draft threatened to creep its way down Dick’s neck. Lew was almost always bundled up in his coat, sometimes his leather one, and this morning wasn’t an exception. He had a civilian scarf wrapped around his neck, which was tucked into his heavy field jacket. He looked dour and put-out, which made Dick just a little bit warmer. 

 

“What’s on the golden boy’s schedule today?” Lew pronounced ‘schedule’ with the British ‘shh’ noise, and Dick’s mouth twitched. 

 

“Meetings, mostly,” Dick sighed. “The Tommys are taking over calisthenics today. Meehan thought it would be good to have variety.” 

 

“Never thought I’d hear the word ‘variety’ associated with the army’s day to day operations.” 

 

“Yeah, well,” Dick said. “It’s only one day.” 

  
  
  


They departed after that, and Dick went back to admiring the countryside. He loved walking past the stone walls and running his hands over the rounded edges. He loved the daffodils and wildflowers that sprung up at the base of them, and the little arches that led to gardens and open fields. If he hadn’t been dressed all in olive, he felt almost at home in the brown and green country. 

 

Even when he was stuck inside, he glanced outside often. Over the course of an hour, it could be drizzling, then sunny, then partly cloudy, and back to drizzling again. While other people were complaining of the musty smell of old buildings, Dick was looking forward to an evening run in the damp streets. 

 

The dirt streets were slightly muddy by seven in the evening, but Dick had stashed away an old pair of running shoes from home. They were worn and perfect for a post-dinner jog. 

 

He rounded the bend in the road, following the small walls that kept the English gardens in place. It was drizzling, and his breath came fast, sweat dripping down his back with the rain. Dick went somewhere else, leaving his body, rocked by the steady pace of his feet. His fears of the war were soothed, as all of his energy went into keeping his breathing even. 

 

Dick entered the wooded area next to Albourne at a dizzying speed. It was fully raining now, and the light of the town was fading as the sun set. 

 

Dick’s foot caught a stray branch, and he slid on the mud, careening for balance. He hooked his arm on a tree near to the path, and skidded to a halt. 

 

All Dick could hear was the rain and his heavy breathing. 

  
  


Later, as Dick was coming back, he saw Lew’s light on in his house. He decided to drift up to him. 

 

The front door was open, as usual. Lewis had taken the only house in town with no occupants. While Dick had become a surrogate son to his family, Lewis had bundled himself away. He said being an officer had to have some perks. 

 

Dick could hear some bluesy jazz number playing in Lew’s loft bedroom. 

 

“Nix?” Dick creaked the door open, and bright white socks perched on the dark desk in the middle of the room. “What’re you doing?” 

 

Lew’s eyes were slightly glassy, his cheeks flushed, and when he turned to look at Dick, he swayed to the left, as if overcorrecting his movements. “I’m just enjoying myself.” 

 

Dick rolled his eyes, but came into the room proper. Lewis got up and cleared papers and books from his bed so Dick could sit there. Then he collapsed back into his desk chair. 

 

There was such a comfort in Lew’s room that Dick just wanted to lay down on his bed and sleep. It had started storming as he got back into town, and he had no desire to make his way over to his house. 

 

“What’s going on, Dick?” 

 

Dick couldn’t explain the feeling that had cropped up in his chest. It felt like the rain and running had knocked something loose. “I’m tired.” 

 

“Well it’s a great night for sleeping,” Nix said. He got up and flipped his record, then lit a cigarette. “Really idyllic actually.” 

 

Dick focused on the red tip of Lew’s smoke. “When you came here, before,” Dick asked. “Where was your favorite place?” 

 

Lew glances over Dick, enough to make him want to squirm. “I loved Paris. The little alleyways and all the bars.” 

 

“Did you like London?” 

 

“London was grittier,” Lewis’ voice was rough, and consumed Dick’s senses. “But it also felt cozier.” 

 

Dick wandered closer to Lew, who was leaning against the table that had his records. Lew was in a tee, and Dick could see his dog tags under his collar. Lewis looked up at Dick. 

 

“I think I could live here,” Dick said. “It’s tucked away, it has farmland.” 

 

“What about Pennsylvania?” 

 

“I don’t know.” Dick hadn’t ever voiced this thought before, but the thought of Pennsylvania set a knot in his stomach. “I just have a feeling that I won’t be the same person after this.” 

 

“Well that’s true,” Lewis said. He put out his cigarette. “I feel like I’m someone different from even a few months ago.” 

 

Lewis looked wilted suddenly, and he was possessed to stand directly in front of Lewis, with his hands on Lew’s shoulders. “I think you seem the same.” 

 

Lewis looked up at Dick, surprised. “I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.” 

 

Dick quirked his mouth. “I don’t know, Lew.” 

 

The moment was heavy, and Dick smelled the alcohol and cigarette on Lew’s breath. 

 

“I like England,” Lewis almost whispered. “It’s quiet.” 

 

Lewis stood to his full height, and closed the gap between him and Dick. He kissed Dick, pushed him against the opposite wall, away from the window, away from everything. Dick was immediately dizzy with it, and he let out a sigh as Lewis kissed his jaw, and then his ear, and then his neck. 

 

“Lew,” Dick sighed over and over. He ran his hands through Lew’s hair, which made him shiver and giggle. He tried to open his eyes, to look at Lewis as he kissed him, but the sensation pulled his eyelids closed, and finally he leaned his head against the wall, body loose and warm. 

 

It was a long time before Nix broke apart from Dick. 

 

“I’m a little drunk,” Nix said. There was a mix of elation and fear in his eyes. 

 

“You are,” Dick said, not unkindly. He put his hand on Lew’s cheek, which was hot and flushed. “You always are.” 

 

Lewis leaned away from Dick, and slid down the wall a little. Dick instinctively came closer, and Lew rested his head on Dick’s stomach. He put his hands in Lew’s hair again. 

 

Dick supposed they should talk about it, talk about what was going on, but he stayed quiet. Dick’s stomach was fluttering and he felt light. He didn’t want to ruin that. 

 

“Lew?” Dick asked, when it was clear he wasn’t moving. “Are you alright?” 

 

Lewis pulled himself up. “I like England.” 

 

Dick let himself kiss Lew softly a couple of times. The alcohol had really seemed to hit him now, and he slumped into Dick. “I think you should lie down.” 

 

It was easy enough for Lew to pull his pajamas on while Dick got him a glass of water from the kitchen. Dick glanced out at the road he’d jogged on earlier. It looked like a river. 

Lewis gulped the water down, and sat up in bed, his legs dangling off the high frame. He pulled Dick in between his legs. 

 

“You know,” he said with an air of confidence Dick knew would fade with sobriety. “It’s not just because you’re handsome.” 

 

“But it plays a part?” Dick asked, uncomfortable. He crossed his arms, but Lew kept him close. 

 

“I’m sorry,” he said, quietly into Dick’s ear. “I know you don’t like to be teased.” 

 

When Lew got him on the bed, Dick knew he was lost. Lewis kissed him until he was quiet and sleepy. Dick fell asleep listening to the rain, wrapped in Lew’s arms. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi i'm back and I love England.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick and Lew figure things out. Romantic dancing ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey!! i'm working on a couple other winnix stories!! I don't have a solid plan for this, I just add chapters as I go, so I just wanted everyone to know! It's not being abandoned or anything I just wanted you to know this isn't a structured story. I hope you like it anyways!!

“I think I’m getting shin splints.” 

 

“You said that last week.” 

 

“Yeah, doesn’t mean I don’t have them, Web,” Liebgott snarled. 

 

Dick tapped Liebgott on the head with his newspaper. Liebgott looked up from his breakfast. “I hate to tell you this, Joe, but Hitler doesn’t care about shin splints.” 

 

Liebgott grumbled, “Sir,” and went back to glaring at a snickering Webster. 

 

Dick sat at the officer’s table for longer than he should’ve. Both Compton and Lipton had been done with their oatmeal and onto their morning schedule before Dick had even finished a cup of coffee. He tapped his foot nervously, while trying to look at his newspaper. 

 

Of course he was hoping Nix would rouse early enough to have a proper breakfast, instead of rolling into the first meeting of the day twenty minutes after waking up. Most of the time Dick wasn’t even in those meetings, but he’d heard Nix describe the scene once or twice. 

 

But no, there was no movement outside that heralded Nix’s arrival, and so Dick passed the squabbling Lieb and Web once more on his way out into the rare English sunshine. 

 

Dick kept touching the spots Lew had touched the night before. He knew no one could tell anything was different, but he certainly felt different. He felt flushed, but cold, like drinking water after chewing mint gum. He kept flashing to the way Lew looked when Dick wriggled out of his arms that morning. Dick didn’t notice how dark Lew’s hair really was until he swiped it out of his eyes. 

 

The day passed in a blur, despite Dick’s feeble attempts to remain focused on the army’s almost purposefully mundane tasks. For the first time since he’d gotten to England, he almost managed to forget that they were training for an actual war. This fact chewed him up a little at dinner, but it did nothing to stop the spread of warmth in his stomach when he thought of Lew. 

 

He knew it was complicated, and he knew he couldn’t let himself be distracted, especially not when they actually did descend upon the war-torn continent. Somehow though, Dick didn’t think it would be distracting. If anything, he’d probably want to fight harder for it. 

 

Dick waited again after dinner, but Lew didn’t come. Dick worried his lip, wondering if his absence meant he was avoiding Dick. Maybe he was just busy. That happened often enough with officers. Dick knew he missed dinner a few nights a week sometimes. If Dick went looking for him though, did that seem too eager? Was it clingy? Maybe Lew needed space to figure things out. 

 

Dick went on his usual jog, out into the woods outside the small village and back again, waving to Luz and Guarnere as they trudged into their billet for the night. 

 

As Dick cooled down, walking slowly on the uneven streets, he passed Nix’s house. The light was on, just like the night before. He stopped outside the front door. In any other situation, going up would be a no-brainer. He put his hand on the doorknob, but didn’t turn it. 

 

“You gonna stand there all night?” 

 

Dick jumped, ripping his hand away and swiveling around. “What are you doing?” he asked, somewhat nonsensically. 

 

“What am I doing?” Nix walked towards him, a paper bag on his hip. “I think I should ask you the same thing.” 

 

It wasn’t like Dick to be nervous, but it was very like him to squirm under Lew’s gaze. “Where are you coming from?” 

 

“Oh I just went to snag some smokes and food from Mrs. Pendleton.” 

 

Lew led them into the house, which was quaint and very English. Dick thought the couch was particularly squashy, and on his rare afternoon off, he’d sometimes sneak in and nap until Lew got home from intelligence briefings. 

 

There was no movement from Lewis to ascend to his bedroom. They stood in the kitchen, silently. Lewis made for his cigarettes. 

 

Lewis, behind the smoke of his Lucky, was staring at Dick. His almost black eyes weren’t threatening, they weren’t sad. It was like Lewis was looking straight into Dick’s mind, and understanding. 

 

Dick’s heart beat fast, like he was still running. 

 

Lew slowly breathed out, smoke obscuring his face. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.” 

 

Dick’s stomach dropped into his knees and soared back up again. He had an instant flush on his face. “I’ve been thinking about your hair,” he said in a rush. 

 

“What?” 

 

Dick took a few steps towards Lewis, who was leaning against the counter. “It’s just so much darker than I thought.” 

 

Lew’s face brightened, but he self-consciously ran a hand through it. He started laughing, and it broke the mood wide open. Dick couldn’t help the smile that hit him. 

 

“What’re you doing that for?” he eventually asked, when Lewis had hid his face behind his hands. 

 

“Most of the time I’m certain I know you,” Lewis said, his voice still caught in a laugh. “But then you say something like that.” 

 

“I know, I’m much sillier than people first think,” Dick shrugged.

 

“Angels aren’t silly, they’re sweet,” Lewis corrected. “Though Michael isn’t known for that.” 

 

Dick shrugged again, but not at anything in particular. He drifted closer to Lewis, setting his hip against the counter, just opposite Lewis’. 

 

“What are you thinking about?” Lewis whispered. His mouth was very near to Dick’s ear, and he was thankful for the dark kitchen that cocooned them. 

 

“I’m thinking that,” he paused, emotion catching his throat up. “That I’m happy.” 

 

Lew laughed then, and put his arm around Dick. “You don’t regret it?” 

 

By it, he was of course referring to last night. Dick’s head buzzed with the memory, and though he remembered a hazy sermon in Pennsylvania, he couldn’t bring himself to feel like he had taken a misstep somewhere. 

 

“No.” 

 

Lewis looked so relieved, Dick cast his eyes down for a moment. They stood with their arms slung around each other. Lew smelled like cigarettes but it felt familiar and comforting to Dick, and he leaned his head down on Lew’s shoulder for a minute. 

 

“What are we gonna do?” Lewis broke the silence. 

 

Dick knew what he meant. Lewis meant  _ we  _ as Dick and Lewis, what are we going to do now that we’re entwined. Dick could feel the roiling anxiety radiating off Lew, mixing with his own. Everything they were doing was complicated, and would continue to be, and everything was going to be hard. 

 

“We’re going to go to war, Lew,” Dick said, willing his mind to stop racing. “And if we make it out of there, we’ll go back home,” Dick pictured bringing Lewis to Pennsylvania, and decided that that was the image that would get him through the war. 

 

It startled Dick when Lewis pulled him abruptly away from the kitchen. He stopped by the front door, locking it hastily, and then they ascended to Lew’s quiet attic bedroom. Dick couldn’t help but feel like a guilty teenager, sneaking away to a place that wasn’t his. 

 

It looked exactly the same as the night before, except perhaps messier. Clearly Lew spent most of his free time at the desk, with paper stacks growing ever higher. There was an empty whiskey bottle in the corner, which always worried Dick, but it was so much a part of Lewis that he probably would’ve felt something was missing if it suddenly disappeared. 

 

“Lew, I can’t stay,” Dick began. It had been risky enough staying the night before, but it had all gotten away from him. His mouth quirked at that thought, which Lewis mistook for Dick’s boy scout morals. 

 

“Calm down,” Lewis smirked, going for the record player. “I only want you for one dance.” 

 

Dick raised his eyebrows. “Excuse me?” 

 

“You remember when I said that prep school really helped me at the dance halls right?” 

 

“Sure.” 

 

Lewis started some jazz number that Dick only faintly recognized and walked over to him. “I never got to show you this.” Nix pulled at Dick’s hand. When he went to put his hand on Dick’s waist, there was a moment of hesitation that might have been shyness, and Dick looked down into Lew’s eyes. 

 

“When did you get taller than me?” 

 

“I think when I was sixteen,” Dick said, his hand going to Lew’s shoulder easily. They took small steps in the bedroom. Lew’s foot hit a stray beer bottle, and kicked it quickly under the bed. He glanced up at Dick, cheeks red, worrying his lip. “It’s just me Lew.” 

 

He rolled his eyes, and quickly turned them, getting ahead of the music a bit. He regained a bit of his rolling charm that Dick saw all the way back in Georgia, and they let the sweeping music take over. Dick pushed himself against Lew, and was surprised when he laid his head on Dick’s shoulder. There was a brief moment that Dick’s instincts froze up, and the closeness threatened to suffocate him. But then Dick remembered all the times Lewis had run away from him, had stuffed down whatever it was that cut him open and hid behind the smoke of his cigarettes. His snarky comments, true and biting, were said with humor and Dick had to take it and watch the pain flash clear and bright on Lew’s face. 

 

Whatever Lewis was doing now, with his head comfortably on Dick, it was vulnerable and Dick couldn’t bear to let himself abandon Lew now. 

 

When Lewis pulled his head up, he didn’t meet Dick’s eyes, and Dick was too busy looking at their intertwined hands to notice his reinvented shyness. 

 

“Alright, back to your perch in heaven,” Lewis finally looked up. “Or a shitty billet.” 

Dick leaned forward and kissed Lew quickly. “Walk me out?” 

 

Lewis stared as Dick’s ginger hair faded into the darkness. He let go a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He turned back upstairs to kill the fluttering in his stomach with a stiff drink. 

**Author's Note:**

> this has been rumbling around in my head for a while. I don't super know what I'm getting at or where I'm going, but I'm excited I'm producing something again. 
> 
> The title is based on a Glenn Miller song.


End file.
